Europe, distant future. A meteorite impacted on the area of Russia, turning the area into a dead zone. Moreover, it emits a strange radiance which increases the impact survivors and their offsprings' endurance and strength, but also causing them to...
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I open my eyes. Everything is blurry. I have to think about why am I here, what happened. The last thing I remember is the injection.
They deceived me. I'm sure about it. They knocked me out with some drugs and transported me into some labour camp where I'll be forced to work as a slave until the day I die. I was suspicious the whole time.This new life was just too perfect to be true.
I hear a voice, seemingly coming from a distance. "Zoya? Can you hear me?"
That heavy nasal accent. It's Ryan. It was him who sold me! My anger forces me to open my eyes and see his unclear silhouette. "What... did you do to me?" I try to shout, but only a whisper comes out.
"You're okay, Zoya," he ensures me, both his image and voice becoming clearer. "Just wake up and I'll explain everything. Also, sorry about the trick with injection."
I finally wake up fully. I realize I'm in the same office where I passed out - probably a good sign. Laying on a metal bed with a white blanket covering my lower body. I'm wearing a blue piece of cloth that feels like a paper. I feel that something is... different.
"Then do your explaining quickly!" I finally succeed at sounding angry.
"Calm down, Zoya." Another figure emerges - it's Dr. Halliday, the man who have me the injection. "You just woke up after a surgery. You may feel a little queasy."
"What's surgery?" I ask. "And why did you do it to me without me knowing it?"
"Let me show you," Ryan says. "Just please, don't panic or do something reckless, okay?"
I gulp - my nervosity grows even stronger. "I'll try."
Ryan, with a victorious smile, pulls down the blanket and reveals my lower body. I blush a little upon realizing the gown ends just a little below my crotch, but the look at what happened erases my shame completely.
My exposed thighs look the same as usual. But my useless, atrophied leg is gone. With an open mouth, I stare at something attached to my legs. It has a simple, yet interesting design combining different shades of gray and silver. It is clearly a piece of machinery, but its surface is smooth, seemingly made of one piece. And it looks like legs. Real legs.
"What the fuck..." I whisper, then quickly cover my mouth. My dad taught me to not swear.
Yes, we live in a savage, post-apocalyptic world where we have to fight for survival. But that doesn't mean you don't have to keep your manners and act like a decent human being.
"I know what are you thinking about," Ryan says. "You want to jump out of the window and run through the whole city as fast as possible while screaming 'Woohoo!'. Don't do it. Really."
I try to look offended. "Who do you think I am? I'm not that reckless."
Honest answer? I wanted to do exactly what Ryan said.
